Introduction to Geotagging
by DJCaps
Summary: Four geocaches in the Colorado woods. Four teams: Troy/Abed, Britta/Shirley, Jeff/Annie, Dean/Pierce. WARNING! Contains: cannabis, bears, bad Batman impersonations, angst, longing, Dean Pelton, and rappelling. Reader discretion advised. COMPLETED
1. Study Group Plus One

"The concept is simple," Abed said. "We use the geospatial metadata on our cellphones to lock onto the latitude and longitudinal coordinates of the cache. Getting to the cache is the easy part, provided you don't lose any cell coverage. When you get to your location, the cache itself could be anywhere around you. It could be in the tree. It could be behind a rock. It could be in a crack in a wall. But it can never be underground. There are three rules of geotagging: no food, no money, no burying."

Abed addressed the rest of the Study Group in a camp clearing in a heavily wooded national park. It was mid day. Annie, unable to completely parse Abed's fast-paced patter, nodded absently. Troy looked incredibly thrilled, rubbing his palms together in anticipation. Britta shook her head and looked over at Shirley, who shared the same look of confusion. Dean Pelton nodded his head, feigning ignorance.

Jeff Winger, dressed in a crisp flannel jacket from L.L. Bean and brand new Timberland hiking boots, had his head buried in his cellphone, as usual. Annie slapped him on the chest to get his attention.

"What?" Jeff said defensively. "I was trying to find the app for the damn … geo- … whatsit."

It was Pierce who finally said what everyone was thinking. "Why are we doing this again?"

"To find the legendary four buried caches of the Rocky Mountains," Troy explained. "We told you this already on the ride over. Legend says they were buried in these mountains during an untold past."

"Three years ago, to be exact," clarified Abed.

"When geotagging was yet young and innocent and not ruined by corporate sponsorships," Troy said wistfully. "Anyway, people have been looking for these caches for years. Many expeditions have been sent up to the mountains but to no avail. If we find these caches, we are by default the heroes of the geocache community."

"Bigger than those people who found the geocache on top of the twelve foot pylon in the middle of the Potomac River, which legend says was set down there by helicopter."

Abed and Troy slapped their own chests and clapped their free hands together.

"Oh, that's nice," said Shirley.

"Well, I don't know about you, but this sounds like fun," Britta said encouragingly.

"So, dare I ask what's in these 'caches' that makes people want to look for them?" Jeff asked irritatedly.

"Usually it's just a piece of paper in a 35 mm film roll canister," said Abed. "There's a list where you can mark your name off, then register it online. Then we have to rehide it."

"Yeah," said Troy. "But sometimes… it's a Tupperware box."

"Filled with Crackerjack toys."

"Like a sheriff's badge."

"Or little green army men."

"I really want that sheriff's badge, though."

"Okay," said Britta. "Suddenly I'm a little less interested."

"No kidding," said Shirley. "This sounds like something my kids do during recess."

"How about we do something a little less lame," said Jeff, "like limbo competition."

"Mmmm…" said the Dean. "I like where this is going…."

"Did I say 'limbo'? I meant white water rafting."

"I still like where this is going…."

"GUYS!" Annie said, screaming loudly enough so that everyone stopped talking. When they gave her their undivided attention, she continued. "We've done a lot of things together that on the surface seem lame, but ended up being a fun time in the end. Pierce, do you remember Dungeons and Dragons? You and Neil actually ended up forming a the Greendale Gaming Club! And Jeff, don't you remember Glee Club? You were super excited when you got to be lead tenor!"

Jeff rose to say something smart-mouthed, but he stopped himself.

"The important thing is that we do these activities together. The important things is to respect each other as friends."

"Ooooh," Abed muttered. "She Wingered us."

The rest of the group nodded, giving encouraging voices to the task at hand.

"Friends?" Annie said.

"Friends," the rest of the group said in their own ways.

"Very good," said Abed. "So our first task as friends is to split up."

"What?" said Annie, a little crushed that he undermined her speech.

"Four caches, two groups of four," said Abed. "That's why I invited the Dean."

"Thank you, Abed," said the Dean, genuinely touched.

"Abed and I are the A-Team," said Troy. "We're going after the toughest one. Five star difficulty, five star terrain."

"Naturally, I'm Murdock," said Abed, "and Troy is…."

"Mr. T?" chimed Pierce.

"No, he's clearly Face," said Shirley, annoyed. "That's racist."

"I'll leave it among yourselves to pair up the way you see fit," said Abed. "Normally, I would have done it, but last time I came up with rankings the emotions stirred were less than idea."

"Well, in that case," said Dean Pelton, "I choose…"

"Shirley!" Britta said. "Hey! You said your kids are pretty good at this, right? That give you some sort of innate … genetic predisposition with radar senses or something, right?"

"I'd be offended, Britta," Shirley said, "if it weren't so true. I'm in."

Annie looked around. She looked at Jeff. Things hadn't been so great between them lately, and she sensed that he was sorta warning her off away as well. So there was Pierce and Dean Pelton. She and the Dean were often on the same wavelength on a lot of things. She started to speak up….

"Then I choose the Dean," said Pierce.

"What?!" the Dean said, a little shocked.

"C'mon," said Pierce. "We're the team of getting things done. Hey, remember when we single-handedly created the school mascot? Those were fun time."

"I suppose," said the Dean, bobbing his head back and forth in a sign of tentative agreement. "But your health…."

"Hey," said Pierce, "if I suddenly collapse from a heart attack, I give you full permission to use my body as a sled to get down from the mountain."

"Well," the Dean said, flashing a glance at Jeff Winger. Jeff suddenly averted his gaze toward his phone again. "Well, all right. Offer accepted. Next time," he whispered under his breath.

"Cool," said Abed. "Cool cool cool. So that leaves Annie and Jeff."

"Again," Britta muttered. "Big surprise."

"I'm… OK with that," Annie said, flailing her arms in no discernable pattern. "Jeff's OK with that. Right, Jeff."

"Yeah," said Jeff. She noticed that he wasn't looking directly at her like he usually did. He was actively trying not to make eye contact. "I mean, we're friends, right?"

"Right," said Annie, now addressing the group. "Good friends," she said, her voice catching a little.


	2. Abed Gives The Rundown

The teams gathered in their respective pairs, sitting on the logs near where the spent campfire was. Annie and Jeff sat stiffly, not looking at each other. Next to them, Britta was sitting on her hands and Shirley was spraying herself with a deep woods insect repellent. At the other end, Pierce was talking about what he'd spend his money on when they found the geocache, while Dean Pelton tried to explain to him that there was no monetary value. In the middle were Troy and Abed. They were scratching out the names of the teams in the soft ground using branches they'd whittle earlier that day.

"Let's review the team assignments," said Abed. He pointed at each grouping with his stick. "Troy and I are the A-Team. Jeff and Annie are the Atlantic Team." Jeff opened his mouth to say something, but Abed pressed on. "Shirley and Britta are Ventnor Team," which garnered confused looks from said team members, "and Pierce and the Dean are the Marvin Team."

"Well, I am a Marvin Gaye fan," said the Dean. He looked around. "I swear, there was no double entendre intended."

"Abed," Jeff said, "those terms make no sense."

"Actually, they do," said Abed. "These are the names as they're listed on the geocache website. There is a method to the madness. Have you ever played the McDonald's monopoly game?"

"Pffff," Britta chimed in. "Like any one of us would ever support a soulless corporate entity that makes McRibs out of yoga mats…."

"I did the Monopoly thing. I won an iPad once," Shirley said, cutting Britta off. "Most of the time I won an extra order of fries. And excuse me, but I don't care if they make those things out of kitchen sponges. That sauce is delicious."

"I heard they made the meat out of ground up dung beetles," said Troy.

"Alright, now you've ruined my appetite."

"Focus," said Jeff authoritatively. He gestured for Abed to go on.

"Thank you, Jeff," said Abed. "The secret to winning the McDonald's monopoly game is that there's only one rare piece. The other two are available in large quantities as peel off stickers on cups and French fry containers. The third is actually the important one. Now, I had to create a theoretical A-Team because there are four options, not three. Also, my handle on the geocache site happens to be Murdock138."

"I'm ButtPatrol," Troy added with a huge grin.

"Long story short, Jeff, the geocaches of you three teams are relatively easy to find. However, I am going to need the three first to unlock the clue for the fourth and final geocache."

"Go on," said Jeff.

"When you find your caches, each will contain a slip of paper on which is printed … a QR Code."

"A what now?" Pierce asked confusedly. "A queer code?"

"QR Code. They're those black-and-white pixelated squares that you find on real estate posters and grocery store circulars."

"Oh, is that what those are!" Pierce said, relieved. "I thought I was losing my eyesight."

"When you find your geocache," continued Abed, "take a picture of the QR code with your cell camera. Send me a text message with the picture. I'll process things on my end. If all goes correctly, all three codes will send back data that will unlock the final clue as to the exact location of the Great Rocky Mountain Geocache."

"Simple enough," said Annie, nodding.

"No it's not," said Jeff dismissively. "It's needlessly complicated. People really go all this trouble to find toys you can get in a Cracker Jack box."

Annie rolled her eyes and sighed. "Some people like the thrill of the hunt, Jeff. And for your information, Cracker Jack boxes only do those little paper puzzle inserts anymore."

Jeff clenched his jaw. _He's mad_, thought Annie. _Good._

"So wait," asked Britta, "if the this geostash…."

"Geocache," corrected Abed.

"…whatever, if it's never been found for three years, how do we know it's still up there? What if, say, a badger snatched it away to turn into a cozy little nest?"

"I suppose that's always a risk. There are some caches that have never been found. Like Gokyo Ri, which is on the highest peaks of the Nepalese highlands and has been missing since 2004. Or the Rainbow Hydrothermal Vents on a Russian Mir submarine that's been on the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean since 2002. But those are extreme cases. Besides, as you may have figured out, the real prize isn't the stuff inside the container, the journey."

"Huh," said Annie, smiling at Abed then flashing a sidelong glance at Jeff, "eloquently put."

"Um, no," said Troy defensively. "It's totally the prize. Hello! Sheriff's badge!"

"Now, if everyone can have their cellphones ready, pull up the geocache app and we can commence."

Britta tried to take a peek at Shirley's phone. It pulled up a topographic screen with little dots showing where several of the local geocache hotspots were. Suddenly, she noticed that Shirley was giving her a dirty look. "What?" she said. "My carrier doesn't really have any service out here. Besides, who brings a cellphone to a camping trip…." She stopped herself short when she noticed she was the only one not hunched over the screen of her own cellphone.

"Now locate the dot that corresponds to your team name," Abed said.

"Go Team Marvin!" said Dean Pelton. "Oh, look! We're southwest of here by about, oh, two miles from the looks of things. God, if I knew we were going to do this much hiking, I wouldn't have worn such tiny shorts."

"Does that say Bear Country?" Pierce asked.

"Oh. That doesn't sound good. Unless it's the … um … leather daddy sort of bear." He checked himself. "Was that reaching?" Jeff flashed him a withering stare. "Yes, sorry, reaching."

"I don't know where we're headed," said Shirley. "The resolution on this spot is terrible. What are we paying taxes for if the government can't get us some decent spy satellites? It's all big blocky pixels."

"It is green, though," Britta added.

"Like pretty much the rest of the map?" quipped Jeff.

Britta shot back at Jeff with a childish imitation of said quip.

"Deadman's Valley?" said Jeff, looking at his phone. "That sounds safe. Looks like it's north of here, same direction as where you and Troy are headed. Looks like we'll be keeping each other company for a while. Where is Troy, anyway?"

Troy returned, hauling a couple of backpacks, grappling hooks, hard hats, carbiners, rock shoes, and power bars. "Don't mind me," said Troy. "Just gathering up our stuff."

"Holey moley," gaped Jeff.

"Hey!" Pierce said. "How come we don't get any of that stuff?"

"Because," said Abed, "your caches are Level 3 at the most. That's ground level stuff. Troy and I… we're going after Level 5." He leaned in. Shadows darkened his face as his eyes narrowed. He darted his eyes, looking at the other members of the Study Group intently. "We're going mountain climbing."


	3. Marvin Team

"Is that a bear?" Pierce asked, craning his neck and pointing at a dark brown shaped blob in the distance.

"Hmmm," Dean Pelton said, peering through a pair of tiny binoculars. "It could be. Though I suspect it's shrubbery."

The two were at the top of a grassy ridge overlooking a panoramic view of the Rocky Mountains. Despite some anxiety about going into Bear Country, it had been an uneventful hike. It was a fairly well traveled trail, mostly grassy with small clumps of trees here and there. The day had been sunny. Pierce had shown remarkable resilience, walking surely and deliberately, while Dean Pelton was gasping for breath. The chance to take a stop and go bear watching was a welcome break.

The brown lump was at the bottom of the ridge. Even if it was a bear, it would be too steep an incline to ever catch up to them.

"We'll," said Pierce, "you know what they say. If a bear is running after you..."

"...you only have to be faster than the other guy," Dean Pelton continued. "I've heard that one before."

"Actually, I was going to say you punch 'em in the back of their throat," Pierce said. "Though your solution sounds a lot safer."

"Well," said the Dean, "if we do run into a ravenous beast, I have just the the thing." He fished into his satchel, which he had slung around his shoulder and dangled near his waist, and retrieved a small pink cylinder with a handle and a trigger. "Ta-daa."

"Do I want to know what that is?"

"Relax. It's mace pepper spray. Some nights, you find yourself walking down a dark alley and you never know if there's someone in the shadows trying to take advantage of you."

Pierce nodded in acknowledgement. He took a look at the coordinates on his phone. "What do you know, we're almost there." He pointed up a path that rounded toward an area filled with thickets and thick evergreens. "Up that way."

"I have to say, Pierce," the Dean said, putting his walking stick the ground. "You have an amazing constitution for a man your age."

"Thank you," said Pierce. "You know, it's refreshing hanging out with someone who doesn't assume I'm just a frail old man. Just because I broke both my legs. But no one ever talks about how I bounced back from that. I have taken more falls and accidents than anyone in that Study Group, and I've survived every single one. I am the John Travolta of physical comebacks."

As they pressed pass the thickets, they suddenly found themselves surrounded by deer. Living in an area of the park where hunting wasn't permitted, they didn't panic at the sight of a couple of humans. Rather, a few just stared at the interlopers. Most continued grazing, paying no heed.

"Well," said Dean Pelton. "This is unique. I don't think I've ever seen anything quite so peaceful. Hello, little guy," he said to a nearby deer. "Do you think he'll let me touch him?" He tentatively reached out and touched the deer's neck. It didn't flinch. The Dean did, though. "Ugh, he smells like the men's toilet on Burrito Day."

"Over there," said Pierce, gesturing to the other side of the clearing. "The coordinates are somewhere in that group of trees." If only the rest of the Study Group could see him now. Pierce Hawthorne! The first to find a geo-flibbertygibbet! Once they recognized his accomplishment, they would have to give him respect!

The deer next to Dean Pelton suddenly jumped. Its hind leg smacked into the Dean's hand, causing him to shoot off the pepper spray. The Dean dropped the canister, cradling his hurt hand. "Oh, God," he said, wincing, "I maced a deer."

That's when he came face to face with the thing that spooked the animal. He thought about reaching down for his pepper spray, but midway through his bend, he decided it would be more prudent to back off slowly.

Pierce, his back turned to the Dean, hadn't seen it yet. He did notice that the herd of deer, though, had gotten up from their sitting positions and began to sprint into the thick forest where the geocache was.

"Hey," he said, calling back, "what do you think spooked 'em?"

"Pierce," the Dean said slowly, "you're entirely sure that we're in Bear Country?"

Pierce looked at the screen on his phone. "Yup," he said. "That's what Google calls it."

"You're positive?"

Pierce exhaled an annoyed sigh. "Yes, we're in Bear Country."

"Do you think the wolves know that?"

Pierce turned and saw a group of gray, lupine beasts approaching. They were nearly silent, almost hidden in the long grass, with only the tops of their heads with their ears and their eyes clearly visible.

That's when Pierce turned and ran. That's when he also discovered that while Dean Pelton didn't have much endurance, he seemed to be his better when it came to the 100 meter sprint. That's when the Dean's words came back to haunt him:

"You only have to be faster than the other guy."

_Damn you, Dean_, thought Pierce as Dean Pelton blew right past him. _Damn you and your superior strides!_


	4. Ventnor Team

"Andre and I used to come out here all the time when we were dating. Now, I'm not usually the outdoorsy type, but there's something about getting out to stretch and enjoy nature that I really miss since I had to take care of the boys. And just when Elijah and Jordan got big enough so I wouldn't have to worry about them falling into ravines, little Ben came along and it's back to being overprotective again. I know we're all afraid of getting older, but I am looking forward to the day I can retire and take long walks in the woods again."

Shirley stopped herself. Not for the first time today, she found out that she was talking largely to herself. Her eyes darted around the woodsy landscape. "Britta, are you even listening to me? Britta?"

Britta emerged from behind a log about thirty feet away. Small twigs and leaves clung to her tangle of blonde hair. "Found it!" she said, triumphantly waving a tiny film canister around.

Abed's coordinates had led Britta and Shirley - Ventnor Team - down a river. Earlier they'd passed some day campers pitching their tents by the shore. Now they were in the untouched back country. Smooth rocks and the remains of felled trees lined the banks on both sides. Walking was slightly perilous, but safer here, Shirley rightfully surmised, then taking chances in the woods where you might be brushing up against a stick or you might be stepping on a snake. The rushing water made a thunderous sound, often making it very difficult to hear if someone (namely Britta) was sneaking off and doing some scavenger hunting of her own.

Britta hunched over a nearby boulder. She pulled a little scrap of paper out of the canister. There were about 45 names listed on it, dating back to 2002. She pulled a little Sharpie out of her jacket pocket and excitedly signed her own name on the paper. After returning the list and canister back to the crook in the driftwood she found it, she logged in her discovery on the phone.

"Check it out," she said, waving the phone in Shirley's face just as her teammate was pulling up next to her. The screen showed a map filled with dots, and a running tally of how many geocaches she's found that day. "Twenty-five geocaches recovered so far by Team Ventnor!"

Shirley glared at her. "Anytime you want to give me my phone back, feel free to do so."

"Aw, c'mon, Shirley, please?" Britta pleaded. "I'm actually good at something for once! There's this thing called powercaching, where you find the most geocaches in one day!"

"That's nice. And what do you get for finding the most ... dots?"

"Recognition for your peers!" Britta said blissfully, excitedly holding the phone to her chest.

"Fine," said Shirley. "Keep it for now. But we would've been to Abed's secret stash an hour ago if you weren't stopping ever five minutes to stick your hand in every tree stump, bird's nest, or molehill."

"Right, right. Sorry. This is the last one. Promise."

"So mind giving me an idea where we're supposed to be headed?"

"Right," said Britta. She checked the phone. She pinched and expanded the screen, an entirely new experience for her. Here Totarolas didn't have technology quite so innovative. "There should be a path headed back into the woods on the left. Then everything gets blurry."

They scanned a shore and spotted a steep dirt path lined with ferns. Britta went first, clambering up the incline with ease. She turned to help Shirley. The path ahead was well shaded by a canopy of tree branches. Small flecks of light dotted the forest floor.

Trying to turn the subject that wasn't dots, Shirley asked, "So how are things between you and Troy?"

"Oh, no," said Britta, "we so failing the Bechdel test."

"The what? Excuse me, Britta, but I think you're forgetting I ain't in your psychology classes. I don't have to study for any of your exams."

"No, that's not... I mean, we're two grown women! We should do stuff other than talking about the men in our lives."

"OK," said Britta. "Uh... do you get the feeling there's something going weird between Jeff and Annie, lately?"

"So talking about our men is wrong, but talking about the men of other women is fair game, is it? Britta, you know I love to gossip. But I just don't feel comfortable at all talking about those two."

"Oh, but Troy and I are fair game? Unbelievable."

There was another reason, something that Shirley "Big Cheddar" Bennett didn't feel at liberty to say. She never felt romantic feelings for Jeff Winger, but between them there was a sort of love. A sibling love, perhaps. Ever since she found out that she had been the bully to Jeff when he was younger, her views on Jeff had changed. She could never see him as merely just the unflappable, de facto leader of the Study Group with the Golden Tongue and innate goodness could unite them. She couldn't even see herself as the mother hen anymore, knowing that Jeff and her were roughly the same age, and they connected as equals. He was the fragile kid whose emotions were so explosive that one wrong move had the potential of ruining his life. Jeff Winger someone to protect, moreso because she'd hurt him so badly. If she could help it, she was never going to hurt him again, even with something as harmless as gossip.

The coordinates took them off the trail and into an area where the canopy was so think the spots of light had almost completely disappeared. Footing here was more perilous. Shirley and Britta found them clinging to each other

"I will say this, though," said Shirley. "You are way less uptight than when I first met you. I don't know if being with Troy is rubbing off on you or maybe it's because you finally found a major you enjoy doing, but you're a lot more fun to hang out with."

Britta's eyes lighted up. "Well, I wasn't angling for sisterhood time, but thanks," Britta replied. "OK, thirty feet ahead." She looked up and noticed something manmade within the foliage. "Huh, no wonder it got so dark. There seems to be some netting covering this spot."

"Watch your step, Britta," Shirley said helpfully, pointing to the ground. "I think that's poison ivy."

Britta blinked nervously. "Um, Shirley? That's not poison ivy. That's..."

Sprouting at the center of the tight, dark clearing was a thick arrangement of cannabis plants. The sharp green spiky leaves extended from the ground in long stalks. Some were supported by makeshift trestles made out of tree branches. The thick cluster had clearly been planted there, though how long the cultivators had been there or whether this particular crop was being maintained, was not apparent. The coordinates on Shirley's phone showed that the geocache was smack dab in the middle.

"Oh, dear Lord," Shirley said. "Jeff was right. This is a stupid game."


	5. A-Team and Atlantic Team

"The main geocache is located up a sheer rock face," Abed explained pointing up to the high expanse of dusty yellow rock that extended toward the sky. "The trick with geotags are that while there are coordinates for latitude and longitude, there isn't anything for altitude. The cache could be anywhere on the vertical plane, with a potential twelve foot tolerance on the left and right hand sides."

"Rock climbing?" Annie asked, her arm wrapped around Abed's elbow. "When did you an Troy ever have time to learn rock climbing?"

"We were at the downtown rock climbing club every Friday evening at 8 o'clock," he explained. "We even invited you once. Remember when we asked if you wanted to join us at the Get Your Rocks Off?"

"Um," Annie said, squirming uncomfortably. "That was a rock climbing place? I mean, I'm not judging, it jut didn't sound like it was my thing."

The four of them were climbing up a switch back that led to higher and higher up a rocky incline. The path had been narrow for most of the way, so they'd gone single file. Now, though, the path widened. They had gone above the treeline. The wall of rock was ahead of them. A steep grade was to their left. On the right, a dizzying view of the full expanse of forest beneath them. The campground was somewhere down there, between the winding river and the distant ridge from the mountain guarding the opposite edge.

The group divided into pairs. Oddly, Troy noticed, Annie and Abed had taken the lead. Annie was giggling and laughing in a very friendly manner. And here he was, pulling up the rear, with a very surly Jeff Winger. He was striking a very familiar pose: his head craned over the screen of his cellphone.

_Man_, thought Troy, _when did I pull the short straw on the Jeff Winger death watch?_

He pulled alongside Jeff, who had been straggling a little. "Heyyyyy, buddy," Troy said, nodding toward Annie and Abed. "Are you just going to stand by and let that happen?"

"I think the altitude is affecting my hearing," Jeff said, "because I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Tear your eyes of that phone a second. Up ahead. Are you just going to let your girlfriend flirt with another guy."

"OK, first of all, we are perilously close to failing the male version of the Bechdel Test. Second, should you be more worried that your boyfriend is flirting with someone else."

"Oh ho," said Troy with a fake smile. "Yeah, that never gets old."

"And third, Annie was never my girlfriend." It suddenly occurred to Jeff that he was never was comfortable with that term. Before, it was his fear of commitment. But now, it didn't seem like something a grown man should say. "I won't lie. We've been very close. But she's a good friend."

"Doesn't look that way to me, Bobby McGee," said Troy. He lowered his voice. "Look, how long were you planning to keep this up?"

Jeff glared at him. "At some point in this conversation, you're going to have to start making sense."

"I'm talking about the whole lying to yourself, thing," said Troy. "Look, man, you're crazy for Annie. And she's crazy for you. Deaf people could see that. You're problem is that you got problems letting go of your ego."

"We are not having this conversation," Jeff said. "We are not The Carrie Diaries. Tell me, are we going to go for pedicures after?"

"Look at me, man. Do you really think it's easy for a guy my age to date an older woman?"

"Are you kidding? When you take into consideration society's dual standards..."

"When my nana found out about it," Troy pressed on, "she did not take it easy! 'Well, looks like there goes my chance of having little grandchildren running around, you ungrateful child!' And then she called Britta a whore, and that she had a hidden agenda, an man, I got so many switches!" Troy's face crinkled as he tried to hold back his emotions. Against his better judgement, Jeff's face softened. He looked sympathetically at his friend.

"And you'd think dating an older woman is cool with most people? Man, guys like me are supposed to date hot cheerleaders or awkwardly hot girls in the Glee Club. A guy like me dating an older woman, people think I'm either desperate or somebody's boy toy. What kind of society do we live in that does not accept boy toys? And do you know how elegant the words Boy Toy Troy sound? It's ... exquisitely elegant!"

Jeff handed Troy a handkerchief. Troy nodded and blew his nose. "Um," Jeff said, "go easy. It's a Burberry."

"What I am trying to say is that you need to man up," Troy said, his face suddenly stern. "Because I am telling you, ever since you and Annie became 'good friends,' you have started to turn back into Old Jeff. You ever wonder sometimes what or who it was that help make you New Jeff?"

"Maybe there was never a New Jeff," Jeff said defensively. "Maybe Old Jeff was putting on an act to make everyone happy, because that's what Old Jeff does. Maybe New Jeff is all lies and illusions. Maybe Old Jeff was happy being Old Jeff because the only person that Old Jeff ever hurt was himself."

"You really believe that? There was a New Jeff," retorted Troy. "Or there used to be."

Jeff was starting to get withdrawn again. Time for the nuclear option. "Those two made out once, you know. No, not like that," Troy added after Jeff regarded him with narrowed eyes. "Kissing."

"When..."

"It was back when you and I were trying to one-up each other in that game of paintball."

"The... one where City College tried to destroy the school with a fake ice cream promotion? Wow, that sounds stupid when I said it."

"That's the one. Well, while the two of us were busy trying to prove to each other how big out paintball guns were, it seems the two of them got pretty close. Like, really close. Tongue close."

"Did Abed tell you this?"

"No, Annie did," said Troy. "She said it was pretty hot, too. She also told me that Abed's apparently a great kisser. Which I wouldn't have any firsthand knowledge about."

Troy dropped it at that. He sensed that this last part rattled Jeff a bit. He was willing to help the guy get out of his funk, but not if it was going to get Abed killed.

Abed stopped. "Here we are," he said, he looked up at the rock face, then down toward the ground. "The Great Rocky Mountain Geocache is located somewhere on this plane of existence. Either up at the summit of this cliff or down at the center of the earth."

"Good luck," Annie said, giving Abed a big hug. She turned and gave Troy a hug, too.

"Your cache should be located just a half hour down this path," said Abed.

Annie nodded. "C'mon... friend," she said to Jeff coldly. She took the lead, while Jeff followed some paced behind.

Abed unshouldered his climbing equipment. He joined Troy, who was sitting at the edge of the cliff and swinging his feet while he wove his fingers together.

"What were you two talking about?" Abed asked.

"Oh, you know," Troy said, "The Carrie Diaries."

"That is a good show," Abed said. He took a glance at his cellphone. "No one's sent me their QR code yet. Curious. I thought someone would've been successful."

"Maybe they're having adventures and shenanigans."

"Possibly."

"So... What do we do while we're waiting?"

Suddenly, their eyes widened with realization as the exact same thought struck them both simultaneously. "Dark Knight fan film marathon!" they said in unison.

Troy reached into his backpack and pulled out iPad. He clicked on the YouTube app. Soon, the two were watching a fan film shot mostly in the dark where an amateur actor tried to sound threatening while wearing an ill-fitting Batman outfit. "Where is Harrrrvvveeeyyy Dennnntttt?" he growled.

Troy fished a Power Bar from his backpack. "Chocolate peanut butter?" he asked in his best Christian Bale voice.

"You know me so well," Abed responded in kind. He peeled open the wrapper and bit into a mix of soy crisp, whole oats, chocolate, and salted peanut butter. "Cool," he said. "Cool cool cool."


	6. Marvin Team Again

"Oh, God!" Pierce screamed, his arms wrapped around the trunk of the tree. "They were all right! I am to old for this! I'm going to end my twilight years being eaten by wolves!"

Pierce's feet were still firmly on the ground. He didn't have the strength to climb... unlike Dean Pelton, who was perched in a branch about ten feet up. He was panicking and bawling his eyes out, but bravely trying to push a thick branch Pierce's way. He managed to poke Pierce on the cheek.

"You can still make it!" he cried. "I'll pull you up! Just grab on to the branch!"

"I can't!" Pierce said, shaking and refusing to open his eyes. "I'm too scared!"

"Pierce, I'll have you know that you were one of the most valuable students we ever had at Greendale! If I get out of this alive, we'll erect a statue in your honor! Bigger than the one of Luis Guzman! And... and... I don't think those wolves are going to do anything."

Pierce opened his eyes. He was surrounded by the shaggy beasts... all sixteen of them. But they weren't attacking him. Some were lying down. Others were running in circles. One took a short leap at Pierce, but it was a playful one. It licked his face, to Pierce's surprise, but then sat placidly at his feet.

"I don't think these are wolves," Pierce said. He bent down and scratched the beast on the neck. He noticed that it was wearing a nice red collar. "In fact, unless I misplace my guess, these are Siberian huskies."

"Well, that's a relief," said Dean Pelton. "It's a good think I didn't have anything to drink earlier. I would've ruined a very good pair of shorts."

"Hello, boy!" Pierce said, finally at ease. "What are you doing way out here?"

That was when he heard someone out there calling out names. A very sexy, feminine voice. She appeared from the clearing, a tall, beautiful blonde in a pink halter top and tight jean shorts.

"Ah!" she said in a delightful Scandinavian accent. "I see you have found my dogs. My name is Olga," she said, introducing herself. She bent over to coo over her dog, giving Pierce a fairly good view.

"I hope they didn't bother you," she said. She eyed Pierce seductively. "I was training them for the Iditarod. I didn't expect anyone else to be out here this far in the woods. They must have given you such a fright!"

"Oh, no," said Pierce, laughing awkwardly. "If anything, they should've been more afraid of me. And the bears, of course."

"I'd like to thank you for finding them," Olga said. "They are so fast, and I was afraid I would have lost them if they broke free. I wonder, how did they come after you?"

"Oh, probably all the jerky I have in my backpack." Oops. That was a failed line. But if Pierce Hawthorne knew anything, it was how to make a recovery. "They... help keep my energy up when things get too intense."

"I see."

_Please, please, please, please_, thought Pierce, _please give me a sign. A sign that I have a chance._

"Oh, you have gotten so dirty, Prancer," she said, regarding her beloved dog's face. "Let me clean that up for you." She opened up her knapsack and opened a package of Hawthorne Wipes. She slowly brushed the mud off the dog's face.

_Bingo_.

"I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself," Pierce said. "My name is Pierce Hawthorne. Former CEO of Hawthorne Wipes? I couldn't help but notice you're using one of our products."

"Really!" Olga said, amazed.

"Are you looking for a sponsorship? I mean, I am semi-retired, but I think I might know some people who still have pull in the company. Some lost-half-brother-sort-of-people..."

"You would do that for me?"

"Of course! Anything for a loyal customer. Let's discuss this over, say, dinner?"

"Certainly! My base camp is close by..."

Dean Pelton watched as Olga, Pierce, and the barking dogs walked farther and farther away.

"Pierce," called the Dean. "Pierce! I could use some help getting down! ... Anytime now! ... Marvin Team! ... Oh, you know what, Pierce? You can forget about your statue! You are getting, at best, an honorary dinner!"

The Dean sulked, leaning his back against the tree trunk. That's when he noticed that there was a tree hollow as big as his fist. It was filled with leaves and twigs. The Dean looked at his cellphone. The map indicated that he was right on top of the coordinates. He plunged his hand in the hole, clearing out the detritus.

There is was. A small black film canister. He opened up the gray lid. There were two pieces of paper inside. One featured a list of names of people who had already found this geocache. There were twenty. The other contained the pixellated black-and-white square of the QR Code.

"Oh, thank God," said the Dean, sighing. He took a picture of the code with his camera and sent the image to Abed.


	7. Ventnor Team Again

"The good news," said Shirley, her hand cupped over her eyebrows, "is that there's no cameras or recording equipment or anything that might give us away that we were ever here."

"And the bad news?" asked Britta.

"The bad news is that this whole place is tripwired to catch on fire like a dang Box Social barbecue. There's a couple of propane tanks in the middle, and some sort of pipes that go underground. I remember seeing something like this done when I took my boys out to see a monster truck rally. Great special effects that can be done on the cheap by a touring company of rednecks.

"It probably was put there as some sort of precaution. If the wrong person ever stumbled on this crop, it goes up in flame to destroy all the evidence."

The two were perched atop a tree stump elevated Thai feet above the ground. In on of the few signs that someone had once been here before them, a small camping axe was embedded at the base. Shirley stood resolutely, scanning the field before her and picking up details like a hawk. Her years of watching police procedurals and mystery shows had stirred something within her. Finally, this game was playing by her rules.

Britta had gotten far less enthusiastic. As Shirley was pointing out all the spots she saw a wire, she realized that she couldn't see it. Not bringing glasses on this camping trip was also a huge mistake.

"What we need to do," explained Shirley, "is for you to go down there, weave your skinny butt to the middle of that cluster of devil weed, then take the picture and mail it to Abed." She regarded Britta suspiciously. "Provided you don't give in to your drug craving and smoke a few of those leaves on the way in."

"Oh, Shirley," Britta said, "I quit doing that stuff since at least last November."

Shirley tightened her lips. "You don't say."

"Yeah," continued Britta. "Ever since they made it legal in Colorado, I was all, 'What's the point?' It was just giving me lung cancer." She peered at the cannabis cluster. "So, wait. if you can see these wires, why am I the one who has to to down there? Why not you?"

Shirley sighed. "Do I really have to be the one to tell you? It's pretty obvious that I'm built like a linebacker."

"I don't know what that is."

"What this needs is someone built like a running back. Like Barry Sanders. Someone with finesse. Lightness. Fancy footwork. And the trim body of an exotic dancer."

"But..."

Shirley clasped her large hands to Britta's shoulders. She regarded her with a stare of formidable intensity. "Are you not the same Britta Perry who has been taking dance lessons for the past three years?"

"Y-yes..."

"Are you not the same Britta Perry who very recently has been sneaking out of Troy's bedroom with the sort of skill only reserved for gymnasts and acrobats?"

"Y- ... Wait, how did you know about that?"

"ARE YOU NOT THE SAME BRITTA PERRY WHO PLACED IN THE TOP FIVE IN THREE CONSECUTIVE PAINTBALL ASSASSIN TOURNEYS DESPITE COMMITTING A LIFE TO A CRUSADE AGAINST GUN VIOLENCE?!"

This got to her. Britta's face melted from hesitation to intensity. "Yeah!" she screamed.

Shirley regarded Britta with bugged out eyes and a clenched chin. "WILL YOU BE OUR BARRY SANDERS?!" she demanded.

"YEEEEAAAAHHHHH!" Britta said, unleashing a primal scream.

"Goooood!" said Shirley in a low growl. "Then get out there and make Mama proud!"

"I will, Coach! I WILL!"

"That's my girl! THAT'S MY GIIIRRRRRLLLLL!"

Britta ran to the cluster of weed and began navigating the course with incredible footwork. The spiky leaves were all a blur to her. Shirley stayed atop the tree stump where she could get a better view. Her voice boomed.

"Left!" she barked. "Now right! There's a narrow spot ahead. You're going to have to jump. No, not close enough. There you are. JUMP!"

Britta took a flying leap and landed on her feet. She took a glance at Shirley's phone.

"It says it's twenty feet north from here," she said.

"We need to get you closer," said Shirley. "Get down on your hands and knees. HANDS AND KNEES, WHITE GIRL!"

Britta did so. She slithered on her belly, avoiding the wires like a snake.

"Ten more feet!" Britta said after standing erect.

"Do you see any place where they could've hidden it?"

Britta took a quick scan and instinctively new where it was. There was a rusted coffee can at the base of one of the cannabis stalks. She looked around to make sure there were no wires first, then tiptoed her way to the can. She turned it over.

There was a small piece of Tupperware. In a previous life, it may have stored lunch meats. Now, it stored hidden treasure. Prying it open, she found two slips of paper. One contained twelve names. She signed it under the team name.

The other contained the QR code. Using Shirley's phone, she took a picture and mailed it to Abed.

Excitedly, Britta leapt up. "Shirley!" She said, waving her arms. "We did it-..."

Her right arm brushed against a wire strung at shoulder length. There was ticking sound. Suddenly, a propane tube buried underground began lighting a flame four feet high. It formed a circle thirty meters in radius, burning the edges of the cannabis but working itself toward the center.

"Britta!" cried Shirley. "Get out of there!"

Britta nodded. She took a step forward, but her toe got stuck in a molehill. She flopped face first into the ground.

"Oh, no," Shirley said, wincing. "Britta!"

She wasn't moving.

Shirley tied her scarf across her mouth. The aroma of the burning cannabis had reached her nose. No use in getting a bigger dose.

"Dear Jesus," she muttered in a low voice, "please know if I inhaled any of the devil weed, I didn't do it on purpose and I did it to save a friend."

Using both of her hands, Shirley gripped the shaft of the axe at the stump's base. She raised it over her head.

"Don't you worry, Britta!" she screamed. "Mama's gonna save you!"

With that, she charged into the fire, reciting Psalms 23 under her breath.


	8. Atlantic Team Solo

"You know," Jeff finally said, "Deadman's Valley is proving to be far more scenic than originally advertised."

He and Annie were hunched down over a scenic overlook looking down into the horseshoe shaped geography. What the map didn't show was a thin waterfall cascading to a dark lake beneath. The satellites must have caught their image on a very dry day.

Annie looked at her cellphone screen, then parsed the information with the vista ahead. "The map is showing our cache somewhere behind the waterfall," she said. She craned her neck to scan the landscape. "Don't look now, but there doesn't seem to be an easy way down there."

"I think I saw a cave down the path to the left," Jeff said. "Unless I miss my guess, I think it was a man made tunnel,and the exit will put us roughly over there." He pointed at an opening near the base of the waterfall.

"Well," said Annie, "I guess even Jeff Winger can come up with a clever idea in that huge forehead of his."

"Ouch," said Jeff, in mock pain. "I have my moments."

Annie rolled her eyes. "Let's find that geocache and get this over with."

Jeff thought about his talk with Troy. He had to make things right. "Annie?"

She glanced toward him expectantly. "What?"

"Nothing," Jeff said, hesitating. "You're right. Let's go."

He rushed aside the tangle of vines that had grown over the five foot high entrance. He arched his lanky six-four frame to get a better view of the path ahead. After thinking a bit, he unholstered his backpack and propped it near the entrance.

"Looks like a bit of a tight squeeze," he said, unbuttoning his flannel jacket. "I think they built this tunnel for Bilbo Baggins."

He took off the jacket and stuffed it in his backpack. He was wearing a right black muscle shirt underneath. He was always fit. Those long arms always had such fine definition.

Embarrassedly, Annie discovered that she was checking out Jeff again. She slapped her own face. That would not do at all. After all, it was his fault that things had gotten so rotten. She had to stop being such a lovestruck dreamer. She shook off the feeling and best she could.

"Do you want to lighten up a bit?" Jeff asked.

"What do you mean by that?" Annie shot back defensively.

"No... I mean... The backpack. It might help you with your balance..."

She brushed by Jeff, embarassed. "I told you, Jeff, you don't have to protect me..." She slipped on a wet piece of moss. Her legs came out from under her, as her arms flailed wildly.

Jeff lunged forward, wrapping his arm around her waist. He forgot how light she was, and how slim and soft her waist felt. The back of her head pushed intimately against his chest as he pulled her back from the cave entrance. Her hair was soft. It had the pleasant fragrance of lavender and the sun kissed outdoors.

Jeff noticed that Annie was struggling not to make eye contact with at him. He sighed. Things were going really well. He helped her regain balance, when she subtly pushed him away. She crossed her arms and looked away.

"Well?" she said, biting the corner of her lower lip.

Jeff scratched the back of his neck. "Right," he said. He dug the Maglite from out of his backpack. "You first, mila-... Annie."

The tunnel led to the exit at the bottom if the waterfall, as promised. A ten foot bank sloped down into the clear, icy cold water. Red rock formed a natural amphitheater. The waterfall formed a picturesque curtain of vapor. The cool mist clung to their clothes and their skin. They stepped in pools, splashing water here and there.

"Looks like we're in the right spot," said Annie, double checking the coordinates on her phone.

Jeff decided to check near the water to see if the cache had been submerged. Burying caches were against the rules, but drowning them in water was apparently fair game. He thought it was a very stupid rule. Annie on the other hand turned to the rock wall, running her fingers across the smoothly bumpy surface.

Her developing powers of observation, finely honed in her forensics classes, had paid off. There was a large crack that ran across the rock face. Hmmm... If she were to hide something, it would probably be right...

"Found it!" she said, drawing out a large shoe box sized plastic container.

Jeff was tempted to say, "That's my girl!" but bit his tongue before he said anything. Annie happily brought the container to him by the bank.

The lid popped open with a hiss. "Wow," said Annie, "this is a lot of crap."

The first thing she saw was the QR code. She took a picture and emailed it to Abed. She also found the list. This was actually not that hard of a cache to find: thirty five names. She couldn't bring herself to put her name and Jeff's name on it.

Annie began taking inventory of the stuff inside the box. "This is really random. Toy binoculars. One Direction pogs. Rubber ears? Oh, look at this. A pocket version of Finnegan's Wake."

"What? You can cram all that incomprehensible BS in a tiny book? Let me see that."

He reached out for the book, which Annie playfully yanked away. Suppressing a smile, he looked up to see her staring back.

Their eyes locked, and for a second they felt a familiar sense of comfort.

They turned away just as quickly. Jeff felt like he wanted to crawl away, to get away from the awkward feeling, when Annie's voice stopped him.

"Dammit, Jeff," she said in a very hurt voice, "why are you still flirting with me?"

"Flirting?" Jeff said unsurely.

"Don't play stupid. A girl knows when a guy's flirting. It's just ... I mean ... you're the one who insisted we couldn't be anything more than good friends."

It would have been silent except for the roar of the waterfall. They sat with their backs turned to each other. Jeff looked over his shoulder. "I didn't mean it like that," he tried to explain. "It's not that I'm against having a ... romantic relationship. But what we do have is something special. It's ... something that I've never really had before. This is something real. Annie, you know who I am. Every romantic relationship I've ever been in has ended in failure. I'd rather keep what we had than risk wrecking it on a fling gone wrong."

"Then why did you keep flirting with me, huh?" Annie said, looking at Jeff's back. "I think I could've accepted being good friends with you. Once. but every time you ask me to do a couples costume, or you invite me to a ski trip, or you tell me I'm important to you, I start to think that maybe there's something there, you know? That ... maybe we were destined to be more than just good friends."

"I don't believe in destiny, Annie," Jeff said. "It's too limiting. Our choices, good or bad, is what decides our future. I don't know if our fates were any more destined than you once thought you had with Troy."

"But can you deny it if everything we do keeps bringing us together? Don't think for a moment that I haven't tried all this time to get over you. I've tried transferring schools. Seeing other people. Ignoring you. Being mad at you! But there's this... pull... that we can't escape. Call it chemistry, or hormones,or whatever, but if that isn't destiny, what is? No matter how hard I try, I cant let you go. Not when you look at me the way you did right now. Not when, every time you stand near me, you give me a tiny sliver of hope that there's something there."

Suddenly, something caught in Annie's throat. Her wistfulness had given way to feelings more unfamiliar. She whirled around, looking Jeff in the eyes. Only this time, her look, while not less passionate, was more wild and furious. "Do you know what really is killing me about all this, Jeff? Do you want to know what has really been pissing me off? That there never ever was a Jeff and Annie. Because you were too chicken to even consider it. Any two-bit penny-ante hussy that walks your way, it doesn't take you two seconds to screw. But Annie Edison? Too young! Too naive! We don't want to sexualize Annie, she's a little young!"

"When I said that," Jeff said, a little rattled, "that was a different time. That was a different me. I don't feel the same way today."

"Really?" Annie said, gasping disgustedly. "Here we are, at the end. You're about to graduate, and I'll be in Greendale until I finish my degree. In a few weeks, you'll be gone. Maybe you'll meet someone fun. Maybe I will too. But I can't but think I will always be haunted by the idea that there's never going to be a Jeff and Annie, is there. Because you caved in. You caved in to everyone whispering about Jeff Winger being a creep for dating a woman twelve years younger than him. You care more about your damn ego than you cared about us! Don't act like you were ever really comfortable being around!"

"That had nothing to do with your age!" Jeff replied angrily. His face was reddening.

"You know it just occurred to me, Jeff," said Annie, pouting. "You were a lot more attracted to me when I was younger."

"That is NOT true!"

"What's the matter, Al Gore? Can't face the inconvenient truth? Is it because I'm not some fawning teenager in short skirt anymore? Is it because I can stand up for myself now? That doesn't make me deluded. That makes you a CREEP!"

"What? I never said you were deluded!"

"Oh, YEAH? How about that time when you tried to convince me this was all in my head? Is it still all imaginary? Have I been fooling myself all this time? This really was all one sided, wasn't it? I wasted four years of my life pining over a guy who'll never love me back!"

"What the hell is wrong with you, Annie? Of course I love you!" The force of this confession caused Annie to back off a little. Jeff put his large hands around he shoulders. She was trembling. "But you deserve better than someone who's so emotionally stunted that he can't see a better relationship with a woman he loves than just ... good friends." He was breathing heavily now, his rage subsiding. "I don't know if I've ever changed, Annie. Deep down, I think I'm as petty, selfish, and manipulative as I always was. Only, I'm much better at hiding it now. And if I am... I can't ever be the guy who hurts you, OK?"

Annie clenched her jaw. Then she delivered a solid, stinging slap to Jeff's chest. "Why the hell do you think you're still like that? Why the hell can't you ever accept that you're a good man? Do you think I would've ever fallen for you otherwise, you DUMB..." Slap! "...INCONSIDERATE..." Slap! "...ASSHOLE!"

The last slap caught Annie off balance. She knocked Jeff and herself right into the water.


	9. A-Team Solo

"There are too many unanswered questions about this, Abed," said Troy. "Too many unanswered variables. Like, some of it makes sense. Me being Face, for example. I'm clearly Face because of my handsomeness. And you're clearly Murdock because you're crazzzzzzyy... good with pop culture references."

"So what are you getting at?" asked Abed.

"OK, so if you're Murdock, and I'm Face, then who's Hannibal?"

"Clearly Jeff. Not only does he fall into the role as a de facto leader, he also has the smooth charisma of a George Peppard. Plus he loves to dress in costumes more than he likes to admit."

"That makes sense," said Troy, nodding. "Who's Mr. T?"

"First of all, Mr. T was the actor. His name on the show was B. A. Baracus. Second, I think it's Pierce."

Troy narrowed his eyes. "That makes absolutely no sense. Pierce doesn't even have gold chains. Or a mohawk!"

"Yes, but among us Pierce has a good heart despite his often blustery exterior. He tends to look a little eccentric and out of place in the group, but his sheer force of will often gets us out of trouble. That second paintball assassin, for example. Plus he has a way with coining long lasting catchphrases that wouldn't look out of place on a retro tee."

"He does?"

Abed pointed a pepperoni stick at Troy. "Streets ahead."

"Oh, right!" said Troy, laughing. "Streets ahead. So why isn't it Shirley? Which I'm not suggesting just because she's black."

"Explain."

"Well, first of all it's pretty clear that Mr. T was the mom of the A-Team. And second, you haven't seen Shirley go psycho." Troy sighed. "I knew we should've went with Gilligan's Island."

"Troy, we agreed to table that discussion because everyone's roles were too obvious."

"We are tabling nothing until we get a ruling on whether Pierce was The Skipper or Mr. Howell! Because, seriously, it changes everything!"

Suddenly, the A-Team theme song rang on Abed's phone. "Atlantic Team has sent in the final code," said Abed. "I love I when a plan comes together."

Now I possession of all three codes, Abed scanned them one by one. Each was accompanied by a little chime when it was done. Ping. Ping. Ping. Eventually, it returned a message:

_Over the flats of the sea,_

_Five thousand eggs are put away,_

_Six hundred fourteen more unwhisked,_

_And that is where your treasures lay._

"OK, even I get that," said Troy. "That means that the cache is hidden 5,614 feet above sea level."

"Hmmmm."

"Alright, I know that sound. You are attacking this with your thinkingness."

"Think about it, Troy," said Abed. "Doesn't that sound a little too easy to you? If it came down to a riddle, wouldn't someone have found the Great Rocky Mountain Geocache already?"

"There was nothing easy about it, Abed," Troy said. He pointed at the distant cliffs, "Pierce and the Dean had to fight bears, probably." He turned toward a hidden crevasse to the left. "Jeff and Annie had to confront whatever Deadman's Valley is. And Britta and Shirley... Yo, is that woods on fire?"

Troy's mind suddenly turned to Britta, and he realized how he would've been more comfortable being over there. While he couldn't let Abed down - he never had - he suddenly felt very protective over his girl. Which Britta would've hated. That was a sign of male patriarchy. But still... At least Mr. T was there with her.

Abed seemed unconvinced of Troy's claims. He felt that a cache this prominent would've been found by someone. If it still existed. Still, he could find no other solution. Of course, there was always... No, that would be the last resort. No need to bring her into it yet. "Let's saddle up then, little buckaroo," he said in his best Murdock impression, "there's gold in them thar hills."

"It's a good day to die handsome," Troy said.

"Face never had a catchphrase."

"I know," said Troy, a little upset. "I know."

They fastened themselves to their safety harnesses, which they'd affixed to the rock wall earlier. Troy clicked on his altimeter app. They began their ascent. They clamped onto small outcroppings, which fortunately there were plenty of.

A small flock of bats emerged from a small hollow above them. They had to stop a while for Troy's panic attack to stop.

They kept climbing upward. "5,100 feet," said Troy, glancing at his phone.

Abed double check the number with the electronic altimeter he had strapped on his shoulder strap. "That seems about right," he said. "Which means we're about wrong."

"What are you talking about?"

"Look," said Abed, nodding his head forward. "There's nothing there."

Troy looked up. They were at the end of the rock face. Abed pulled himself up over the edge. He clasped Troy's forearm and helped him over the last stretch. Abed pointed his index finger toward the sky.

"Unless the cache is hidden 500 feet up," he said, staring at the empty space. "Then we messed up somewhere."

Troy shook his head and stamped his foot. "Man," he said, "I hate it when a plan doesn't come together!"


	10. Ventnor Team the Third

Clearly there would have been a time Britta Perry would have welcomed being surrounded by a garden of burning cannabis. For some people, namely Burning Man types, this would be a one of a kind experience. A pretty cheap way to get a contact high from some free fumes. Britta, though, had been trying to go clean for a while.

She coughed up some smoke. Ooh, pretty colors. It was starting to look like a Donny and Marie Osmond special from the '70's. well, except for the Deep Purple that was playing. She was pretty sure that the Osmonds never played "Smoke On The Water". The smoke undulated and vibrated and danced to the beat, until she saw what looked like dozens of people jamming on guitar. One looked like the Greendale Human Being. Another looked like one of those robot things from that Inspector Spacetime show that Troy and Abed really liked. How was he even jamming? He didn't have hands!

Alarms were going off in her head. She needed to get out of here, they said. Everything's on fire, they said. Get your lazy butt off the ground and run. But why should anyone do anything? She thought. Not when it she felt so comfortable, like being in bed on a lazy Sunday and cuddling a very soft pillow. She sunk down deeper, her cheek now flat on the dirt. So soft. So very soft. Unbelievable softness.

Why did she ever try to get clean when getting high was so awesome? A breath of the fumes were definitely making her feel a little tingly. She was suppressing a giggle.

And then she remembered. Troy. She was quitting because of Troy. Not because he ever asked her too. Troy was too chill for that. But because she wanted him to respect her. Half-heartedly, she tried to pick herself up ... but so, so soft.

"Hey, Britta," said a familiar voice. Britta lifted her head. It couldn't be. It was impossible. There was Troy, standing in front of her, flashing he winning starting quarterback smile. He was wrapped up in a brown robe, and his head was covered by a cowl.

"Whoa," Britta said, blinking through her very red eyes. "I thought you were teaming up with Abed to get that big geocache. What are you doing here?" Then she noticed the burning plants around her. "Oh right. Hallucination. Duh-doy!"

"How do you know I'm not using The Force to reach out to you?" said Troy, suddenly glowing blue.

Britta's eyes widened. "That makes sense!" she said, snapping her fingers.

"We need to go, Britta," said Troy, holding out his hand. "Giving up is not like you at all."

"Pffff, yeah right," said Britta, rolling her eyes. "You know how long it took me to decide on taking a psych major? Like, way too long. Indecision is my middle name. Shoot, you're one of the first things I was never indecisive about." She frowned. "Why is that? I think it's cuz I'm looking to fix peole all the time... but I never had to fix you, Troy. You're just so... sunny. Like, granted, you're life's not perfect, but you don't have issues. Which is why I kinda feel like I'm still the worst."

"Britta, I told you... you're not the worst."

"I know!" said Britta. "I guess I wanted you to know that being high is nothing compared to how good it feels to be loved by someone who doesn't think I'm a nuisance. Or that I'm some one night stand. And I've never, ever wanted more to believe in The Force was a real thing than I do right now. I guess... I guess I wanted to tell you that in case I ended up dying here."

Troy's eyes bugged out. "Wait... What?" He looked around. "Oh my God. Why didn't you tell me everything was on fire? I gotta get you out of here Britta! Oh ... my God. My robe is on fire. Aaaaaaaah! Brittttaaaaaa!"

Troy disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"Troooooyyyyyyy!" Britta screamed. She'd done it. She'd killed him. She broke down weeping, collapsing on the ground utterly and helplessly.

She was so distraught that she barely noticed when a large, heroic figure emerged from the blazing fire, like a great legendary hero from ages past. She looked like someone airbrushed on the side of a van. She wore a brilliant red cape, which billowed as it caught a warm updraft. She was covered in a colorful suit of armor, red and blue and gold. She couldn't make out her face that well, as it was covered in mystery by a scarf that was wound tightly over her nose and her mouth. She could make out her skin, though, which was black as night, and her long curly hair, wild and untamed and reeking of war. Then there where her eyes - fierce, red, and determined ... burning, burning with the red fires of hell and searching with extreme intensity.

The mighty warrior queen swung a giant golden battle axe, mowing down the burning cannabis in a wide arc. It sent little crackling sparks flying with a satisfying whoosh.

"Britta!" she called out. "Where are you, honey?"

Britta coughed. "How do you know my name, oh great champion of Midgard?" she whimpered.

Shirley turned, hearing Britta's voice. She swung the mighty axe, a golden trail following the path of the swing. Kra-ka-thoom! She marched forward through the smoke and the haze with thundering strides.

"Snap out of it, Britta!" she called out. She still couldn't see Britta through the smoke, which was stinging her eyes. "You're in the powerful grip of the weed! Now I'd be lying if I said that the sensation wasn't altogether pleasant, but you gotta fight it if you want to get out alive! Now tell Mama where you at!"

"Shirley!" Britta said, finally coming to her senses. "Over here!"

Shirley found her on the ground, her face in a state of supreme relaxation. She cradled Britta in her shoulders. With a mighty heave, she lifted her with her strong arms and placed her on her shoulder. She looked down at the ground. The geocache they'd found was burning. The little QR code was curling up as the fringes were ringed in flame. The paper turned into black, glowing flakes that scattered into the wind. So passed the Ventnor geocache, from the deep forest into the hushed dreams of legend.

"Well, I guess that's it for that stupid game. C'mon, Britta," she said kindly. "Let's get out of here."

"Shirley," said Britta, wheezing but still smiling blissfully while looking at Shirley through heavy lidded eyes, "you're my favorite superhero."

"Yeah, yeah," said Shirley, slightly amused. "Tell me that later when you're not high."


	11. Atlantic Team Again

_Smooth move, Annie Edison,_ were Annie's exact thoughts as she plunged into the water.

She got the worst of it. It initially didn't seem so bad, but the powerful current created by the waterfall dragged her deep down into the icy waters. She'd also been wearing her backpack, which was laden down with various equipment. The strap across her chest felt like an anaconda squeezing the air out of her. She tried to hold her breath, but the coldness made her muscles feel numb. Sinking deeper and deeper, she panicked. She didn't know what was going to be worse, freezing to death or drowning.

_I should've paired up with Britta or Shirley_, she thought morosely. _I wouldn't have fought with Jeff. And I wouldn't have damned myself to an icy death._

She felt a familiar hand grip her around the waist. And she realized that of course there had been nothing to worry about. Of all his qualities that she loved about him, one of his best is that, despite maintaining a cool attitude of not caring about anything, Jeff Winger was always there whenever his friends needed him. And in her case, especially, to protect her.

She was going to miss seeing this side of him.

She felt him as he pressed his body against hers. Jeff let the current carry them to the opposite shore. Breathing heavily, he lifted her out of the water. He unstrapped her backpack and gently laid her down on the embankment.

"Annie!" Jeff called out in a panicked voice.

Dammit, why didn't I pay attention during the CPR class instead of making fun of all those weird looking, gender neutral dummies? That would've been really useful information to know right now. There was something about chest compressions, but also something about cracked ribs and Christ I'n definitely going to kill her.

His mind raced to what he'd seen in the class films, which he was pretty sure had been filmed in the 1950's the way everyone on screen looked like they came out of Leave It To Beaver. What did that freckled-faced do to that blonde-wigged mannequin? Right, mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Instinctively, he raced to place his mouth over Annie's. He stopped short when her eyes fluttered open.

"If you're g-going to do that," Annie said in a weak, shivering voice, "are you going to pay for d-dinner, at least?"

A relieved laugh escaped Jeff's throat. "God, Annie, you had me... I thought you..." He ran his hand through his sopping wet hair. "... CPR. I was trying to do CPR you."

"You're h-horrible," she gasped, her lips quivering. "Y-You're supposed to do five chest compressions to get the heart racing. And you're s-supposed to check if I'm unconscious first, dummy."

"Well," said Jeff, furrowing his brow, "it looks like your tongue hasn't been injured. And for the record, you're forensics now, not hospital administration."

"I-I'm just cold," she said in almost a whisper. "I just need a few minutes... I ran out of breath..."

"Here." He hugged Annie tightly to his chest, feeling the rapid vibrations of her body. Her shoulders were hunched tightly, her arms folded across her chest. Jeff slid his hands up and down her upper arms to help generate heat. She slowly felt strength returning to her weak limbs. She rested her head on Jeff's shoulders. If she looked between her feet, she could see the waterfall crashing into the misty lake below. Other than the roaring thunder of water, there was mostly silence. There was a bird tweeting in the trees somewhere. A whippoorwill? She never had to think about birdwatching since Girl Scouts.

"So is that's what it's going to take for you to be close with me?" said Annie. "A damn waterfall?" She raised her eyebrows, looked up at his face, and smiled.

Jeff snorted. "It... shouldn't," he said.

"I want to tell you something, Jeff," she said. "There was a time I decided that I wasn't really in love with you. I figured that I was just deluding myself, and I was more in love of the idea of trying to make you fall in love with me. Which, now that I think of it, is positively Wingeresque."

Jeff lowered his eyes. "I think I understand what you're saying," he said. "Love and attraction are two completely different things..."

"But I did fall in love with you," said Annie. "A week later, I think. Remember when we were playing lawyer, and we were prosecuting Todd over a yam?"

"I do. And the way you phrase it, it sounds sounds really ridiculous."

"Well, you cornered me when everything was going our way. We would've gotten the A grade I was fighting for, I would've won my case, and I thought you'd be proud of me. I mean, c'mon Jeff, I made a pretty great lawyer, don't you think? But you pulled me aside, and you told me in all seriousness that we should drop the case, since there was a chance we were going to condemn an innocent man. And you said something like, 'Don't be like me.'

"That's when I fell in love with you all over again, Jeff. I fooled myself for a while there thinking that I was chasing after you for your fantastic abs. At that moment, though, I realized why I have a hard time letting you go: because when we're apart, we're sorta well-meaning bus self-destructive. But when we're together, you'll never let me ruin my life ... and I'll never let you ruin yours. We're always trying to make each other better people than we already are. That's pretty great, dont you think?"

Jeff ran his hands through Annie's wet hair. He regarded her shapely body with her wet clothes clinging closely to her skin. She was a beautiful, mature woman now. She was no longer the eager-to-please college girl with the tightly clipped hair he'd met three years ago, who'd enrolled in Greendale because she was mooning over he high school's star quarterback. Now she was becoming a strong-willed, respectable woman who was far more comfortable being herself than she'd ever been. She would, or should, want more out of a relationship than a sly glance or a come-hither smile. In other words, she'd need more than what he'd given her.

_This isn't fair to her,_ Jeff thought. _She deserves much, much better than this crap._

"Annie," said Jeff, very carefully. "We've been at each other's throats a lot lately. Can I have permission to be frank with you?"

Annie searched his face. There was a shadow of uncertainty passing across it.

_Permission? Frank? Oh, no,_ thought Annie. _Don't ruin this. Don't ruin this moment. You moment ruiner. If this is going to be the last time we have together, can I enjoy it for a while. Please?_

She was afraid to say anything, which Jeff took as an invitation to continue.

"I think I may have figured out why we're always doing this... cycle of flirting and not flirting and making eyes at each other and keeping each other at a distance and doing this dance like some sort of peacock in heat. It has nothing to do with me being emotionally uncomfortable or being a mental wreck. I mean those are factors, true... but you're right. It's never really stopped me from chasing after other women before.

"I think we keep doing this... or at least, I keep doing this... is because not being a couple? It's actually pretty hot."

Annie narrowed her eyes. "That... What?"

"For example, just now when we were arguing," said Jeff. "For some reason every time we blow up at each other, we end up wanting each other more. Remember that time you lost your pens and you went ballistic?"

"How can I forget?" said Annie, disgustedly. "You guys are always reminding me of it every other week."

"Which means you probably remember when we were staring each other down. Your eyes are typically so, um, enchanting, but that day they were the most vicious I've ever seen them. I accused you of hiding your pen for sympathy, you accused me of towing it away in a body cavity, and ..."

Annie blushed. "...we were about ten seconds away from totally doing it on the study room floor with all our friends watching. I remember." Jeff raised his eyebrow. Annie pursed her lips. "I... sometimes fantasize about what might have happened if Abed hadn't stopped things from running their natural course."

Jeff didn't want to admit that he did that too sometimes. "I don't think I'm really worried so much about losing our closeness, then," said Jeff. "If we can fight and argue and somehow still want each other in the end, then closeness is not an issue. The two of use are never going to lose it. What I think I'm really afraid of is losing the thrill of being able to get away with something forbidden."

Annie stared at him, then started giggling. "Oh, that settles it then," she said, sniggering, "we're both hopelessly neurotic."

"I'm being serious," said Jeff, as if struck by a revelation that he could not immediately parse. He spoke as if her were trying to work out his thoughts at the same time. "Of the years I've been in Greendale, two relationships have fallen apart mainly because they weren't forbidden anymore. And you and I, we were never supposed to be together. Everyone just assumed that I was supposed to be more like a big brother to you... which, frankly, only never looks like romance if you're actually related. And even then, it can be kinda iffy. So us being together, it's the ultimate in forbidden relationships... barring polygamy."

"Did you just imply that we're incestuous?" Annie said incredulously.

"All of us are incestuous, Annie," Jeff said. "I thought we talked about this sometime during our first year. Our group is so close that we're basically all brothers and sisters. But that's not the main point. The main point is part of what makes our relationship so alluring is because while we've been close, we've never been close close. The entire concept of forbidden love is what made Stephenie Meyer a multi-millionaire, right? It's dark, alluring, uncertain, and exciting. Deep down, I think I was afraid that maybe if that the two of us were actually a couple, that forbidden aspect would disappear and would be the beginning of the end. I'm speaking from experience. Things didn't work out between Michelle Slater or Britta for precisely the same reasons. I was afraid that I'd break up with you just as horribly and messily."

Annie winced when Jeff mentioned those names, but recovered quickly. "So," she asked, morosely, "does this mean we're back to being good friends again, then?"

"I think I just had an epiphany," said Jeff. He lifted Annie's chin to get a better look at her face. "When you were drowning then... just a few minutes ago... I realized that caring about whether or not you get your daily endorphin rush from sneaking around and pretending that there's nothing there is really, really stupid. Not when there's a very real chance that someday, I lose a wonderful woman who loves me and she'd never, ever know that I loved her back."

"Jeff..."

Before she could continue, Jeff kissed her on the lips. It was totally unexpected. She's been used to being the initiator. Jeff was taking the initiative, though... and her body tingled as she was awash in a sense of giddiness and relief.


	12. A-Team Again

"There has to be another kind of clue buried in the riddle," said Abed, pondering. "There's something about the pattern, as if it was something out of The Hobbit. Or something that the Riddler would write in the Adam West Batman show. The answer is seemingly obvious, but it's not the right answer. Troy, are you listening to me?" He didn't get a response. He saw Troy, who was gazing contently at the horizon. "Troy?"

Troy snapped out of his reverie. "Whoa," he said as his eyes returned from their thousand yard stare. "Sorry, Abed. I think I was having an out of body experience."

"I was just saying," said Abed, "that maybe the best thing to do is to try and take apart this riddle piece by piece. We've been focusing so far on the liminal that the only solution can be found in the subliminal."

"I don't know, man," said Troy. "I think you might have been right about the journey being the real reward. I mean, look around you."

He stood up, breathed in the crisp mountain air, and took in the view. Their climb had taken them to a high vantage point. The trees looked like little green toothpicks poking out of the landscape. The mountains looked grey lumps of rolled up clay covered by a fluffy layer of leaves. In the distance, he could see the winding freeway weaving around the gaps between the mountains.

Abed glanced up at the view, then looked back on his phone. "It's a little disappointing," he said, turning his attention to the code.

"What?" said Troy incredulously. "Dude, it is breathtaking!"

"I guess I've sort of become disillusioned with the wonders of the real world when I realized entire lush environments can be generated via computer. Compared to James Cameron's Avatar, the view can only rank a distant second due to its lack of creativity and originality. Worlds of unspeakable whimsy and wonder can be found in a movie screen."

"That is not the same thing," Troy insisted. "Those aren't real. And it's totally not was geocaching is about. You are supposed to slow down and enjoy the scenery."

"I thought you were looking forward to getting that sheriff's badge."

"C'mon, man," said Troy, "who wouldn't. But you got to learn to relax and take things easy. The world's not going to end if we don't find this geocache, buddy. But when you're hunched over this phone, you miss seeing all this amazing stuff around you. I mean, you're starting to look like Jeff Winger."

Abed raised his head. He cocked his eyebrows. He stared at Troy, with a look that said the answer was on the tip of his tongue.

"Overlay," Abed said knowingly.

"Whu... What?"

"That's the clue," said Abed. "It's the first and last words of the rhyme. I think this means that we are supposed to lay one QR code on top of the other."

Abed pulled up a photo editing app. He used a cut and paste tool to make the white parts transparent while keeping the black spots intact. He merge the three QR codes into a singular image of black and white blocks.

"Moment of truth," Abed said. "Cross your fingers."

He sent the image to be scanned. A pop up appeared, requesting a four digit password.

"Five six one four," Abed and Troy said simultaneously. It was the number listed in the middle

Abed typed in the code. The screen on his phone turned white. Suddenly, numbers, letters, and symbols raced down vertically.

"Oooh," said Troy. "Looks like something out of the Matrix. App. From an unauthorized developer."

"I think this might be a virus. No, wait..." Abed's eyes darted back and forth. "Not a virus," he said. "A conclusion."

"Virus, conclusion, same thing," said Troy. "Either way, your phone's going to brick."

"It's not going to brick. Not if she can help it."

"Who... She?" said Troy. "Abed, we are the only two people on this mountain."

Abed flashed a conspiratorial look. "There's a third." He pressed the button on his phone. "Hilda, transfer code to external server."

"Yes, Abed," said a robotic female voice.

"Whoa!" exclaimed Troy, his eyes widening in surprise. "Your computer girlfriend is on your phone?"

"She's the mother of my children," Abed said in total seriousness.

"How is she even in your phone?!"

"I smuggled the entire file on a memory stick while we were at Hawthorne Industries. I then downloaded the code onto an external server, which my phone is now accessing. Hilda is an amazing piece of work. She's like Siri, only useful. Her algorithms are so complex that they approach levels of artificial intelligence."

"My algorithms are pretty complex," said Troy jealously.

The code eventually disappeared from Abed's screen. "Hilda," said Abed, "format code."

"Yes, Abed," said Hilda. "I love you, Abed."

"Did that robot voice just say she loved you?" Troy said incredulously.

"Yes," said Abed. "She can be a little clingy."

The cellphone screen went blank. Green lines traced across the screen in the form of a grid. Eventually, they came together to form a familiar image. It was a three-dimensional wireframe model of the rock face.

"The geocache is located in the spot marked red," said Hilda. A red X appeared on the screen.

"Ah, thank you, Hilda," said Abed. "You know me so well."

"Be careful, sweetiepie," said Hilda.

"I am a little weirded out here," said Troy.

Abed pressed a button to turn Hilda off. "When I get the resources," Abed said, "I plan on building a robot body for her. That may be a way down the road, though. The technology in Japan has gotten fairly amazing recently."

"Are you serious?" A more important question struck him. "Will it have boobs?"

"Do you even have to ask?" said Abed.

Troy stared at him, jaw clenched. Abed stared back. Then they pounded their chests and gave a high five.

"Let's do this," said Troy. They grabbed their ropes and rappelled over the edge, down the side of the rock face.


	13. Marvin Team the Third

Dean Pelton cradled himself on the tree branch. He couldn't believe what he did. Was it desperation? Insanity? Being in the deep, dark woods had a way of bringing out the animal in man.

Pierce had disappeared some hours ago with the blonde. The Iditarod racer. He had been left stranded in a tree. Many times, he'd tried to climb down the tree, but the bark was so slippery. The fall was scary. There were so many roots down there. In fact, he couldn't even remember how he got up here in the first place.

He was getting hungry. He'd left his backpack at the base of the tree, where a wandering bear had sniffed it out and eaten all of the trail mix. There was a trail of oats and raisins that went into the woods.

And then... he did something that he was ashamed of.

What was he going to do now? Was he going to be in this tree for the rest of his life? No. That would be ridiculous. Best case scenario: a strapping young park ranger would find him and whisk him away like a prince finding a princess in a faraway fairy tale castle.

He heard some rustling in the woods. Dean Pelton's ears perked up. "Jeffrey?" he called out. "Is that you, Jeffrey? Save me! I'm alone and stranded and scared, and I ... Oh my God, what happened to you?"

Pierce emerged from the foliage, dressed in nothing but his white boxers and black, ankle high socks. He was red faced and befuddled. Nothing new there.

"Well," he said, "it turns out that Olga was a con woman. Turns out she's been tracking me for a while. She followed me to the park with a that cockamamie story of being an Iditarod racer. A pretty expensive one. Maintaining all of those Siberian huskies can't be cheap."

"Wait... why would she seduce you while dressed up as a dog racer?" asked the Dean.

"I... may have mentioned it in my tweets as a particular fetish of mine," he said, plopping down at the base of the tree.

The Dean nodded sympathetically. He himself knew the first hand experience of being enamored with a dog breed.

"She lured me to her tent with promises of kinky, bead-based romancing. She had some cameras set up and this truly soft bearskin rug. Well, it turns out she was looking for some blackmail material. Jokes on her, though. There's already way too much footage of little Pierce online like you wouldn't believe. You just need to know the right keywords." The Dean winced uncomfortably. Pierce continued. "What is wrong with me, Dean? I used to able to sniff out frauds back in the day. Now any blonde with a gimmick shows up and I'm completely out of my game."

"That's not true... hey, Pierce? Do you mind staying there?" said the Dean, balancing himself on the tree branch. "I'm going to try to get down. I need someone to catch me."

"What? Oh sure, sure," said Pierce, barely paying attention. "I guess I was desperate to find someone who valued me for my abilities. And my disposable wealth. You know, someone who respected me."

"That's not true," said the Dean. He reached out to a branch on the opposite side of the tree. "You have the Study Group. They respect you."

"Hah!" scoffed Pierce. "Good one, Dean." He shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't have made good on my threat to walk out on them two years ago. You know why I picked you to partner up in this dumb game?"

The Dean now straddled two branches with his feet. Now he needed to get his arms around the trunk so he could slide down. "Um," he said, "my incredible sense of direction?"

"Because none of them ever want to partner with Pierce," he said bitterly. "Shirley would be at my throat from minute one. Troy and Abed talk in a weird gibberish I don't understand. They'd get bored of my old stories quickly. Jeff hates me. Old Boobs barely tolerates me. And Annie... well, I guess she would be fine. She was the only one who voted to keep me in the group. But if she spent more then five minutes with me she'd turn on me like the rest of them. Besides, we all know who her first choice would be." Pierce's voice got indignant. "I think they've actually invited me to fewer things this year than they ever have before! It's Biology 101 all over again and I'm stuck with Todd."

"Let's not resorting to calling each other names," said the Dean. "Who's Todd again?"

"You know... That guy with the weird white guy afro who hates us."

"Oh, right. The war hero." The Dean placed his right hand on the tree trunk with his left hand still grasping at a small branch. "You know, I've always considered you extremely lucky. I've always wanted to be part of your Scooby Gang. But I'm always stuck in my office, and you get to hang out with your friends. Insignificant as you may feel, you're part of a very carefully cultivated ecosystem. Lose one and what... the Greendale Seven becomes the Greendale Six? The is definitely not as catchy, and not something that would look as nice on T-shirts. Now, get ready..."

"You're right!" exclaimed Pierce, standing to his feet. Behind him, Dean Pelton slid down the tree trunk and landed flat on his butt. His crotch hit a protruding tree root. He screamed silently. "Without me, the group has no place to focus their disappointment! I make it easy for them! If I ever left the group, they would turn on each other, and everything would fall apart. I'm Ziggy Stardust to their Spiders From Mars! Eh?" he said, turning to the Dean to see if he approved of his analogy. The Dean, through a pained face, did not respond. Pierce continued. "I keep everyone sane by being the pariah. Well, if that's what I mean to the group, then I'll keep on being their mast. Dean, you're a genius."

"Thank you," said the Dean, gasping. Pierce helped him up.

"Well," said Pierce, "I think we should find that geo-whatsit for Abed."

"No need," said the Dean weakly. "I found while you were off... romancing that hussy."

"I did nothing of the sort with those dogs!"

"... I said hussy."

"Oh," said Pierce. "Where was it?"

"In the tree. There was a little canister with two pieces of paper in it. Or there used to be. I... uh... may have consumed them in a fit of hunger."

"Huh," said Pierce. "You're hungry? Why didn't you say so?"

He walked over to a spot fifty yards down, deeper in the woods. He arrived at a large tree stump. Pierce examined the bark. Someone had scratched a message on it using a pen knife. Pierce looked inside the trunk. He lifted an orange five gallon bucket.

"You know, back in the day," said Pierce, "we used to do this thing called 'stashing.' We were doing this long before these internet hipsters turned it into a gay little game. No offense."

"None taken."

"Basically, you leave these canisters in various parts of the woods for people to find in case of emergency. They're stocked with a ton of useful things." He pried open the lid. The Dean looked what was inside. He gasped. There was a bottle of Jack Daniels, a box of cigarettes, a first aid kit, a shirt in a can... and most importantly, cans of spam.

"Pierce, it seems everyone has severely underestimated you," said the Dean. "If it helps at all... I'm glad you chose me as your partner."

Pierce beamed proudly. "Ha ha, you're alright, Dean."

"Though let's not make weepy, slow motion fan videos set to mellow piano rock just yet," said the Dean. "I still haven't forgiven you for ditching me. Now, for God sake's Pierce, put on a shirt."


	14. Atlantic Team the Third

Of course she packed waterproof matches. If there was something about Annie you could rely on, it was her plucky preparedness. Her backpack was full of stuff, much of it waterlogged but still useful. Jeff struck the match against the box a few times, eventually got a small flame going.

He tossed the match in a pile of wood and driftwood they'd gathered. They'd strung a wire nearby between two stout branches. It was going to be a long walk back, and it wouldn't do to do that in wet clothes. Surprisingly, Jeff may have felt a little more awkward than Annie about stripping down to their underwear. He had his back turned to her while she disrobed.

She stayed nearby, her arms hugging her knees tightly to her chest. He took a quick glance at her bare shoulders, but quickly looked away out of embarrassment.

Jeff cleared his throat. "You know," he said, "after I met my father I thought I'd be different somehow. I thought, maybe this was going to be my chance to finally change as a person. Get to be New Jeff. But then I discovered that nothing really changed. Remember when I brought Chang's wife in to prove how he was the same old guy who nearly killed all of us?"

"Well, yeah," said Annie, rolling her eyes, "it's all on video. I'm pretty sure it's one of the most rented DVD's in the Greendale library. I can't believe you even gave Abed permission to release it. If that was me, I would've personally gone nutso on every existing copy."

"I let Abed release it to the public because it reminds me of how irredeemably selfish I am," said Jeff. He poked the fire with his stick, pushing a burning piece of wood closer to the center of the pile. "I couldn't live with myself after that. Is there a New Jeff? I don't feel different. in fact, I'm not different. I'm still arrogant and selfish as I always was. When it comes down to it, I kept my distance from you for purely selfish reasons."

"That's not how it works, Jeff," said Annie. "There's no magic cure all to becoming a better person. Just because you met your dad doesn't mean you're going to change overnight.

"And besides," her voice sounded a little timorous at this point, "you did what you did because you wanted to protect us. You may have gone a little too far, but your heart was in the right place. You've always had a big heart. Besides, whenever you go over the edge crazy like that, it's ... kinda super sexy."

Jeff suddenly glanced over to Annie. She'd definitely been checking him out, hunched over the fire in only his cotton-soy blend tiger striped undies. Shocked at being discovered, she swiftly turned away again.

Jeff smiled to himself. He looked back at the fire. "So you're saying that if I suddenly were more responsible, I lose some of my alluring animal magnetism?"

"Ugh," said Annie, disgustedly. "You need to get over yourself sometimes."

The fire was now roaring and probably could be left unattended for a while. He stretched out on the ground next to Annie, locking his fingers behind his head. She was lying back, too, with her elbows propping up shoulders as she relished the scenery. Trying to be a gentleman, Jeff tried to keep himself from staring at her.

"Wouldn't it be nice if we could just stay here forever?" she said, sighing. "You know, build a house here by the water. We wouldn't have to return to the real world and worry about grades or life after college or people judging us behind our backs. Just you and me and the call of nature."

"I'm sure the park rangers would have something to say about a couple of vagrants squatting on public lands."

"We could be like those two kids in Moonrise Kingdom. We could listen to music and dance around on the beach in our underwear."

"Annie, I never took you for a Wes Anderson fan."

"He has his moments. So you know what I'm talking about? You've seen the movie?"

"I... may have seen it when it was in the theater."

"Aw. You could've invited me. I had to wait until it came out on DVD."

"We'll, I didn't know you were into precious hipster movies."

"You never asked. I bet you'd find out we have a lot more in common than you think."

Jeff suddenly realized that this was staring at Annie, and it was the first time he was really seeing her. He saw her mostly dressed very primly, in a tight sweater, a cardigan, and a skirt. And one time in a sexy Santa dress. She was still very attractive in those, though sometimes he wished she'd wear something looser for a change.

But... he'd never seen her like this before. Not necessarily the lack of clothing per se. That was something else entirely. She was dressed in nothing but those cute pink Victoria's Secret undies that they market for college girls. It was titillating in the same way 50's bathing suits were: revealing yet demure.

No, the revelation was... since when was Annie Edison this hot? Truth be told, Jeff had alway found her beautiful. However, that had always been overshadowed by his attraction to her personality: her formidable ambition, her way in seeing the good in everyone, her sometimes uncontrollable rage and the sweetness after. Jeff could have been with any beautiful woman, but there was only one Annie Edison.

Except... she was that beautiful woman. Maybe it was how her wet hair wildly framed her naturally pouty face. Or those dark pools of her eyes as the light reflected off them. Or her shapely legs. Her smooth calves. Her smooth back. Or that ample bust. This wasn't Annie Edison, fellow classmate and day planner extraordinaire. This was someone who should be one the cover of swimsuit magazines... someone who even Jeff Winger would assume was unattainable.

It was Annie's turn to notice Jeff checking her out. She blushed furiously and slapped him playfully on the arm. "Take a picture, why don't cha?" she said. "It'll last longer."

"Believe me, I plan to," said Jeff. "Besides, what's the big deal? It's not like you haven't seen me completely naked."

"It's different when you're objectifying me," said Annie, flashing a sidelong glance at Jeff's tight underpants, "unless you plan on following it up at some point."

She lowered her eyelids and smiled seductively. Jeff felt his body move closer to her, as if being moved by an irresistible force.


	15. A-Team the Third

"Oh, my God!" said Troy, hyperventilating. "Rats with wings!" He'd briefly considered that maybe he was over Batman and his obsession with bats, but pursuing that thought only brought him shame and anger.

He said this as a flock of bats suddenly engulfed them. They swarmed the two rock climbers. The beat of the leathery wings and the sound of their tiny shrieks was too much. Troy let out a frightened girly scream.

The descent had been rather uneventful until then. Maybe a little to uneventful. Troy had noticed that the closer they got to the Great Rocky Mountain Geocache, the more withdrawn he got. He'd periodically check with Hilda to make sure they were on the right track.

Passing the bats, they arrived at a hollow that wasn't visible when the ascended. Eyes facing up, they missed the sloping rock face that fractured into what looked like a honeycomb. It was stained white with bat guano, a natural habitat for the furry winged creatures. They'd mostly fled by the time Troy and Abed approached.

Troy crinkled his nose at the smell of ammonia. Never again would he imagine the Batcave to smell of a cool mountain mist mingled with the heavy musk of justice. Instead, he would always associate it with the smell of bleach and Pine-Sol. Batman's cave wouldn't smell much different from his Nana's house on cleaning day.

Abed came to a full stop. He stared at a dark hole, about six inches in diameter caked in guano. "We're here," he said morosely.

"Alright!" said Troy, clapping his hands. He noticed Abed didn't share in his delight. "What's wrong?"

"This is it. This is the end."

"And? If I remember correctly, this is the whole point of dragging us in the woods. The treasure is right in front of us!"

"It's different when it's within your reach. What happens now? We find the cache, we write all our names on it. We register our names online, and the Study Group is spoken in the same hushed tones as the team that used pulleys and ropes to be the first team to retrieve Psycho Urban Cache #13. But when it's done, it's done. We return back to the real world. Jeff still graduates, and four months later most of us do, too."

Troy raised his eyebrows, finally realizing what was really bugging Abed. And that Abed was coming frightfully close to lapsing into a catatonic state again. Which really freaked him out, as Jeff or Britta were usually the ones to snap him out of it. Troy was always on edge that anything he said would make things worse. If Abed froze up, it was a long, long way back down.

"Hey," he said, trying to sound relaxed but failing to mask his panic, "remember, the present used to be the future, and everything turned out alright, and there's the family we choose and the family we grew up with..."

Abed held up his hand. "No need to Winger me," he said. "I already ran a far more inspirational speech in my mind. Imitating Jeff is not really your style."

"Oh," said Troy, hanging his head.

"They were comforting words, but they really don't help confront the sadness when you face it. Take the 'family you choose' speech, for example. I'm happy with the way you guys banded together to bring me out of my funk on Christmas when my mom decided to spend time with her new family, but if I were to be truly honest the pain never goes away. To deny it is to bury it. And while I can tell myself that the new future in relation to or new present will be fine, it doesn't erase the hurt that I might lose a family all over again.

"In a way, the fractures have already been showing. Jeff and Annie, though they've yet to completely give in, have been planning ski trips and other dates excluding the group. Pierce and Shirley are busy with their sandwich shop. And you and Britta have unsuccessfully been trying to have secret sex under my nose." Troy shifted uncomfortably. "Don't get me wrong, Troy. This isn't disapproval. But it seems to be clear that once the convenient excuse of uniting as a study group disappears, we will naturally form new relationships while only meeting the rest less and less frequently. Maybe just at birthday parties or maintaining a shallow relationship on Facebook.

"Getting us all together was maybe one of the last times we could all be together again before Jeff graduates. And while we had fun this weekend, I'm sad that we're at the end. Maybe for good."

Great, thought Troy, now he's bringing me down. He couldn't bear to see Abed like this. He wrinkled his brow deep in thought. A bat solemnly pooped on his shoulder.

And then a though hit him. "Frasier Crane," he said.

Abed perked up. "What about him?"

"Frasier had to move from Boston to Seattle and said goodbye to his old family. Then he met a new one: his dad, his brother, the hot chick who was a nurse, and the hot chick at the radio station. The Cheers group wasn't a part of his life anymore. He barely kept in touch because he was busy with his new family. But when they did show up, it was awesome! They were like the best episodes on the show! That's because everyone at that bar loved each other so much, and nothing could ever really make that disappear."

Abed cocked his eyebrow. "You never told me you watched Frasier."

"I... may have watched a bunch of episodes to show Britta that I totally know how psychology works. And the humor makes me feel smart, yo! Like Alex Trebek smart!"

"Interesting," said Abed, his anxiety gradually disappearing.

"C'mon, Murdock," said Abed, flashing his wide smile, "let's get that last geocache. If things are going to end here, let's make it worth something."

Abed nodded. "Agreed, Faceman."

They both reached inside the dark hole at the same time.


	16. The Group Reunites

"So that's how we found the Great Rocky Mountain Geocache," explained Abed. "It was stored in a water tight container in the middle of a limestone hollow. We opened it there, took some prizes, and scanned the QR Code. Congratulations, Study Group, we are the first ever to recover the cache."

There was some whooping and cheers from the group gathered around the fire.

Jeff checked the site on his cellophane. "Oh, look," he said, "we got comments already. It looks like a full ninety percent think we cheated."

"Whoop! Up top!" yelped Annie, giving Jeff a high five.

"I don't know how anyone is ever going to follow up to verify, though," said Dean Pelton. "My geocache may have been eaten by a ... ravenous beast."

"Yeah," said Annie, a dawning realization growing on her face. "I think ours mighta drowned."

"I think ours might've died in a fire," Shirley tittered in her high-pitched voice.

"That's not funny," said Britta, "I almost died in that fire playing this dumb game."

Annie sniffed her. "Do you smell like pot?"

Britta rolled her eyes. "I don't know... do you smell like damp laundry?" Annie blushed, which caused Britta to narrow her eyes a little.

"I almost got eaten by a bear," said Dean Pelton. "Well, not really. It was a wolf. Though, not really. But I did smash my no-no's, and it was really very unpleasant."

"Do you want to add anything, Pierce?" asked Jeff. "Namely, why you're in boxers and a 'Free Mumia' shirt?"

"No," said Pierce, shaking his head. "I had a pretty great day. I got laid. Not by the Dean," he clarified, when he noticed some questioning glances going around the campfire.

"I guess," said Britta. "I got to see a side of Shirley I never got to see before."

"Mr. T?" asked Troy.

"What? No! More awesome," she said, hugging Shirley around the shoulders.

"What about you, Jeffrey?" Shirley said. "Any interesting stories happen on the way to Deadman's Valley? You and Annie seem to be on better terms now."

Jeff and Annie glanced at each other. The last traces of animosity were gone. But... there was something pretty hot about running a "forbidden" relationship.

"We just talked," she said, laughing nervously. "Got the aggression out of our system."

"Yes," said Jeff, wrapping his arm around Annie's shoulder, causing her to blush. "Good friends."

Britta rolled her eyes.

"Uh huh," said Shirley in her most disbelieving voice. "You do realize none of us are buying this."

"Guys," said Jeff, standing his ground. "You're all missing the real lesson from today. The whole game wasn't about prizes or hidden caches or wondering if your cellphone will still operate underwater. What matters is the journey. It may be a journey through the woods, or it maybe one of self-discovery. In the end, discovering something new about one's self, that ... is the real treasure."

"No, I'm with Shirley," said Britta. "Fess up, you two."

"Speaking of treasure," said Abed, intentionally bailing out Jeff, "we have some parting gifts."

"For Marvin Team," said Troy, proudly wearing his sheriff's badge, "I present to you a stuffed lobster magnet."

Pierce turned the thing in his hand. "Not Jack Daniels," he said, "but it'll do."

"How are we both supposed to own a stuffed magnet?" said the Dean.

"Fortunately, there is a lawyer in our midst who might be familiar with custody battles..."

"Just put it in the damn sandwich shop, jeez," snapped Jeff, which caused Annie to snort.

"Not a bad solution, Jeffrey," the Dean said, nodding.

"For the Atlantic Team," said Abed, "a John Elway bobblehead."

"Awwww," Annie cooed at the cute figurine.

"So who's getting custody of that?" asked Pierce.

"Oh believe me," Shirley said severely, "that ain't going to be an issue."

Annie would've been taken aback, but she thought she saw Shirley wink slyly.

"And finally," said Troy dramatically, "for Ventnor Team, something I know you'll really love... a CD of The Sign by Ace of Base."

"That's... nice," said Shirley a little dispiritedly.

"What, are you kidding?" said Britta. "I love Ace of Base! Thanks, pookie bear!"

She gave Troy a big kiss.

Annie gave Jeff a very concerned look. "Pookie bear?" She silently mouthed. Jeff just shrugged.

"Ooh, ooh, ooh!" said Britta. "You who has two pinky fingers and brought her boom box out here? This grrrrrrllll!"

"That's TWO THUMBS!" corrected Jeff.

Troy brought the boom box to the group and put the CD in. The peppy Scandinavian sounds of Ace of Base filled the air. Britta and Troy locked hands, performing an elegant routine that those not trained in dance could never hope to match.

_ I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes _

_I saw the sign_

_Life is demanding without understanding_

_I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes _

_I saw the sign_

_No one's gonna drag you up to get into the light where you belong..._

_But where do you belong?_

Jeff offered his hand. Smiling, Annie accepted. They joined the rest of the group, dancing and laughing all through the night.

* * *

END TAG

He hummed a tune as he trekked through the thick forest. It wasn't any particular tune. It was a tune he made up on the spot. Humming a licensed tune from an actual musical act? That was so cliche. And if he was anything, he was not a cliche. He was a man who lived to be original. Someone who lived to be the full potential of a human being. Or that's what he told himself.

Oh, crap. Somehow the humming had morphed into "Somewhere Over The Rainbow." He had to put a stop to that.

This area of the forest was one safe from prying eyes. He'd check the satellite maps, and the resolution in this area was terrible. Unless you severely went off the beaten path, it was pretty much guaranteed that no lost hiker or park ranger would ever come this way.

It was the perfect way to grow some incredibly potent breed of cannabis.

As he approached the location, though, he noticed that there was an aroma in the air. As if someone was lighting up a joint right now. He ran the last few yards, and came across an apocalyptic site: someone HAD come across his tiny farm, and someone HAD tripped his safeguards. His entire crop had tragically been wiped out.

Anguished, he raised his hands to his over-gelled blonde hair, then dragged his nails over his star-shaped sideburns.

"What... HOW?!"

* * *

_Author's note: thanks to everyone who read and commented and enjoyed this little story! I don't usually do ensemble stories - and this wasn't going to be one initially - but I discovered I really liked writing about all the characters. The Jeff and Annie was the only one I originally had in mind. But then I realized I really wanted to write Shirley, too... and the rest just snowballed. It was exciting to write at this speed, letting the whims of the story take me to unexpected places._

_Thanks again!_


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